Road to Redemption

[Xtreme]

His fist clenches. He looks up, his opponent prone. He wants to swing... Or does he?

Do it! Hit her!!

Lucious draws back, but notices a figure out of the corner of his eye. Fucking Bernie Core. It is in this moment that Lucious makes his decision, letting out a sigh.

He is kicked, rolls out of the ring, and sits against the barrier. Andre Holmes is the first to notice him, but Starr nods to signal his intentions. Bonnie Blue nails Jordan Wolfram with the Paradox, the rest of Rebellution joining her in the ring for the victory. A grin crosses Lucy's face as he passes Dag Riddick, Starr holding back rather than to follow his instincts to kick him on the way up. Lucious applauds his opponents as he slips to the back...

Later...

But why did you do it, man? Why would you just... Throw a match away?

The scene comes up on Lucious Starr, smiling. He walks into a large gaming room, handing a beer to an unidentified friend. He cracks open his Jaeger, taking a few shots before turning back.

C'mon, Josh. You really think I was going to blow off Andre for some two-bit asshats on my own team, for a stupid notch on my belt?

Please.

Riddick and Core needed to be taught a lesson. So, I put up enough of a fight to let 'Rebellution' earn it, then stepped aside so they could have their moment.

Joshua stands, taking a swig of his beer before looking at his longtime friend.

So you're honestly going to tell me that you sacrificed a win just to send a message to a couple jackoffs who didn't even matter.

JD, you know me. You know how long I've been in this business. You know why I keep this up despite my past.

Do you really think a notch in my win column makes a difference at this point?

Lucious stares at his partner, a deep breath. Joshua shrugs, taking a large swig of his beer.

Look, Lucy. I get it. Kalis killed Winnie. You're still dealing with it. And I guess it makes SOME sense that you're back in the ring; you said the business that brought you two together is the one place you still feel connected to her.

But how do you think Winnie feels when you're throwing matches?

I'll deal with that wh...

Joshua slams his beer down, getting into Lucy's face.

No, you're going to deal with it NOW.

Winnie fell in love with a WINNER, Lucy. Someone who didn't let pride, ego and arrogance determine how he acted. Someone who gave his all, whether he was at the bottom of the barrel or the top of the mountain. Winnipeg loved Lucious, the uncrowned Champion. Not Lucious, the arrogant asshole who throws matches to serve his own goddamn ego!!

Joshua and Lucious stare each other down, breathing heavily. Lucious takes a sip of his beer, pondering. He sits down, scratching his scalp.

I know. I know, JD. I just...

I don't know anymore, man. I miss her, y'know? Aaron killed her only a few weeks before our wedding.

She was my everything. And he took her from me... I've lost direction, Josh. I've lost my path. And I just... I don't know where to go from here. All I know for certain is that I belong in the ring.

Joshua places a hand on Starr's shoulder, nodding. He draws Lucy in, the two sharing a brotherly embrace. They separate, Joshua sitting back down.

We'll figure it out, Luce. Starting with this week's Slam.

Lucious nods, the two conversing for a moment as the scene fades.

LATER STILL!!

The scene opens on an athletic facility. Various men and women scatter the area, working on various weight machines and workout equipment. Somewhere in the midst of it all is a setup of three wrestling rings, each one housing various young people. A selection of people yell instructions to those inside the rings, no one noticing the cameras. A familiar voice is heard from one of the squares circles.

No, no, no!! Okay, people. Break! Huddle up!

All in attendance circle around one ring. Standing in the middle is Lucious Starr, sporting a referee's shirt. He looks out to the anxious crowd, shaking his head.

Now, I did not put this facility together to bring in a bunch of slackers. I didn't commit my time, my energy, and the same from my colleagues here for people who are going to half-ass their way through training. Coast-To-Coast Underground was built to train the Champions of Tomorrow. And NONE of you have the drive today. What the hell?

A young lady raises her hand. Her deep green eyes flicker in nervousness.

But Mr. Starr... You gave up last week. Against a team you probably could have beaten with half the teammates you were given.

Yeah. Shit, you coulda popped Bonnie Blue's gut and bled her like Aunt Flo, but you hesitated. The hell's with that?

The room falls silent. Starr's co-teachers start, but can't quite find the words to support their longtime friend. Lucious raises a hand, stopping one of them from speaking.

I got this, Lightning.

Class, what is the one thing we push harder at this training school than anything else? Is it grapples? Resiliency? Is it how to take or throw a punch? Perhaps we teach you that giving in to the animalistic nature of a hardcore match is most important.

Well?

A moment of hesitation, followed by a unanimous, albeit lackluster, reply of 'passion'. Lucious nods, taking a breath.

You're damn right. Passion. You could be the most naturally talented performer in this industry, and you will FAIL. You could hold all the titles in the known world, and it will mean NOTHING. But passion... Passion for this sport is what drives us. Passion is what keeps us going.

Passion is what made Mr. Harvey a multiple time Television Champion, and the longest reigning in PWA history.
Passion is what made Mr. Figgins a multiple time champion and part of one of the most definitive tag teams in history- G.O.D.
Passion... Passion is what made me a household name, what made me the main event. Passion is what made me keep fighting even when my own partner turned his back on me. Passion is what kept me going when the world's foremost faction, the Order of Chaos... Tore. Me. Down.

The mental and emotional scars of this business cut deeper than any weapon will. The tragedy, the loss, the roller coaster that is your win-loss record... It will test the limits of your very soul. And I guarantee you, ladies and gents, that without passion... You will fall.

Lucious looks about the room, humbled eyes darting between him and the floor. He looks about the room, a sigh.

Could I have won my match last week? Of course. But I didn't have the passion. I was paired up with teammates that I couldn't believe in, against opponents who have my respect... Well, one of them, anyways.

I was placed at odds against myself, and I wasn't going to compromise who I am for something as quizzical as a notch on my win column. So yes, I hesitated. Yes, I gave Bonnie Blue the opening to eject me from the match and pick up the victory. And yes, I walked away with the knowledge that I still have to prove myself with the WCF fans and locker room.

But I have passion. This sport... This sport meant the world to me. I was young like all of you, I remember how it was. I was all about the fame, the glory, the money...

The Championship Gold.

Lucious grins, nodding as some of the students clamored. He takes a moment, gaining nods from his fellow trainers.

But I learned how meaningless those titles were. I realized how little those pretty trinkets really meant and how the money was just another trivial conquest. No, class. The point of this sport is to find your passion. Find your center. Figure out who the hell you are and where the hell you fit in...

And then take it.

Again, silence. Lucious takes a deep breath, looking about the room.

Don't let one night of my history put a blemish on your careers. Don't allow one moral dilemma define who you are, as a competitor or a person.

You dig deep. You fight. You scratch and claw your way to the top, and you find your fucking passion...

Or you back your bags, and you go the fuck home. Your choice. Now, let's get back to practice.

Lucy nods, slapping one of his colleagues on the back. He notices the camera, leaning in to another trainer and whispering to him. The tatted man nods, a grin. Lucious exits the ring, waving the cameraman into an office. Starr closes the door behind him, turning to face the camera.

So you want to see about my triple threat match this week. Fair enough; I guess it's time to answer a few questions as well. First off, to address one of the biggest issues of the week. Did he, or didn't he? That's the forefront question, no?

Bonnie, I want you to pay close attention to this. In case you didn't notice, I told Andre MULTIPLE times last week that I was torn over this match. I said point blank, POINT. FUCKING. BLANK. That I was considering throwing the match entirely. Now, combine that with the reason you were double teamed and STILL managed to find an out, you answer the question yourself: did I throw that match, or didn't I?

Starr takes a moment, walking around a large desk and sitting in a comfy desk chair. He brushes a stack of papers aside, folding his feet atop his desk.

You can't answer that question honestly, can you? Your pride won't allow you to. You want so badly to believe you simply outclassed us, and your ego won't let you see what lies right before your eyes.

I gave you that out, Bonnie. I gave you the opening you needed. Because like hell was I going to allow Fag Smalldick and Bernie Core to get a win. Like hell was I going to let that happen to two assholes who don't even deserve to share the same ring with me. And like hell was I going to let them do it to someone I respect, someone I consider a friend, Andre Holmes' record. If I'm going to sacrifice my win percentage to advance the greater good, this is the moment I choose.

Now, I understand that this choice comes with consequences. I have to prove myself further. To you, to our opponent Adam Young, to the rest of Rebellution and to the rest of the WCF locker room. But I love a challenge. I have a habit of going from a nobody to being a household name. This challenge is no different than any other I've faced.

Lucious lowers his feet, spreading his arms. He motions to a mural behind himself, depicting a variety of people inside a ring. Lucious speaks, reminiscing.

Coast-To-Coast Wrestling once was amongst the most premier federations in the world. We put on shows with talent that shadowed all others by comparison. Based out of Greece, we built a dynasty. One in which yours truly eventually became the World Champion.

The money I made from working there allowed me to buy stock in the company. Yes; the same company that signed my paycheck was the one securing my financial future. In any case, when the company started falling, I used a portion of the millions I'd made and bought the company outright. When CTC Wrestling folded, I took the label that I now had full rights to and built this training facility. I dedicated the branding that made me a star into a training brand for future stars.

What am I getting at, you might ask? Simple. From the ashes rise the strong. From the rubble, the greats emerge. From the darkness comes the brightest light.

Lucious leans forward, clasping his hands together. He stares with intent into the camera. The view zooms in on his face.

I dug a hole for myself last week by giving you a victory. I put doubt in the minds of the masses by giving up a win, and I have a mountain to climb in order to prove myself. But I've done it before, countless times. And I will do it again. Do not make the mistake of underestimating me, Miss Blue, or your undoing will be swift and definite. I will rise from the ashes with a fire that will set ablaze your overambitious thinking... And YOU, my dear, will burn.

As far as Adam Young is concerned...

Lucious ponders a moment, scratching his chin. He takes a breath, trying to gather his thoughts. After another long moment passes, he shrugs.

Actually... I'm not concerned in the least about Adam Young. I know, you're thinking 'this guy is dangerous' and 'you are the one with something to prove'. But come on. This match is a Triple Threat to gain access into a World Championship qualifier match. Adam Young just doesn't have the stones.

This is a guy whose only success has come from a team effort. The ONE singles title he's held here was a lower class championship that took a GROUP to win, over ONE defending champion. If that doesn't scream "perpetual loser", I'm not even sure I'd want to know what the fuck DOES.

Adam, I really want to see you as a threat here. I do. But the fact that you haven't had the balls to get on my level says that there really isn't a reason to worry myself over you. You have a history of failing to measure up when it comes to the big one. So I'll give you a fight; hell, I'll give you a war if you so desire. But don't be upset when your clock has been cleaned and you're left staring at the ceiling at the end of the match.

Lucious takes a moment, standing. He starts around the desk, shuffling towards the door. He turns back, calm.

I have the most to prove this week. Yet, at the same time, I am the measuring stick by which each of you is being judged. The question, dear foes, is this.

Will you rise to the occasion and claim victory?

Or do you lack the heart to overthrow the most tactical for you have faced in your entire careers?

See you on Slam, ladies.

Lucious opens the door, walking out and towards the training center. The camera follows for a moment as he instructs a pair of students on a grapple hold. The camera pans the scene, and we fade... to... black...